Next Day.
Kachak!
The sound of clashing steel rang out across the stone training grounds.
Elena was a blur of movement, her rapier dancing through the air with lethal precision. Across from her, the Commander of the Aragon Family Guard, a grizzled man who had survived a hundred battles, moved with the calm grace of a mountain.
He held his longsword with a single hand, his left arm tucked firmly behind his back, parrying every one of Elena's frantic lunges with a flick of his wrist.
Whenever their blades met, a localized shockwave of air erupted, sending dust and gravel skittering across the floor.
Elena's face was twisted in a mask of anger. Her strikes weren't just fast; they were heavy, weighted with a frustration that had nowhere else to go.
"That bastard... how dare he talk to me like that... after everything..." she mumbled under her breath, her teeth gritted so hard her jaw ached.
"Bastard?" The Commander raised an eyebrow, his feet sliding back an inch as he absorbed another blow. "Who managed to make the 'Crimson Blade' this hysterical? I haven't seen you this unfocused since you were ten."
Elena didn't answer with words. She pulled her sword back, her eyes flashing a dangerous, iridescent crimson. With a guttural cry, she swung her blade in a massive horizontal arc, putting every ounce of her fury into the strike.
CLANG!
The Commander blocked it, still using only one hand, but the sheer force of the impact made his boots screech against the stone. He skidded back several meters, leaving two shallow ruts in the training floor.
"Just someone who doesn't know what's good for him," Elena hissed, her grip on the sword tightened. "A creature so broken he'd rather spit on a helping hand than admit he's drowning."
"You... You don't mean Rio, right?"
The Commander's tone shifted. For the first time in the spar, he moved offensively. He blurred forward, his heavy sword whistling as it aimed for her neck. Elena's instincts kicked in; she leaped into the air, the blade passing a hair's breadth beneath her feet.
"Don't name him in front of me!" she screamed.
While still in mid-air, her frustration boiled over. She didn't just want to spar; she wanted to destroy. In a moment of reckless impulse, she ran the edge of her palm across the guard of her sword. A thin, jagged cut opened.
A flood of crimson blood began to materialize from the wound, expanding in the air like a sentient tidal wave. It hardened into hundreds of crystalline needles.
With a flick of her wrist, the cloud of crystalline blood shot forward. The Commander's eyes widened. He slammed his sword deep into the stone floor, bracing his shoulder against the hilt to anchor himself.
BOOM!
The impact of the blood-needles against his mana-reinforced cloak created a violent explosion of dust and red mist. The shockwave was so intense it shattered the nearby practice dummies into splinters.
As the dust settled, the Commander remained standing, though his cloak was shredded and the ground around him was cratered. He looked up, a dry, amused smile on his face.
"Oh?" he huffed, wiping a drop of blood from a cut on his cheek. "I thought we were only going to spar using swords today, Princess. That felt a bit... personal."
Elena landed silently, her chest heaving, her hand still dripping. The anger hadn't left her, but the sudden discharge of mana had left her feeling hollow.
"He's a fool," she whispered, looking at the blood on her hand.
"I carried him back to his room. I tried to help him breathe when it looked like his own body was rejecting him. And he... he had the nerve to call my care 'vultures waiting for a meal'."
The Commander straightened his back, pulling his longsword from the stone floor with a grating screech. He looked at the Princess, then at the shredded remains of the practice dummies.
"The boy has always been a cornered rat, Elena," the Commander said, his voice dropping the playful edge. "And cornered rats bite the hand that reaches for them because they've forgotten what it's like to be fed. But you... you didn't just reach out. You tried to pull him into your world. Maybe he's just terrified of the light you carry."
"He shouldn't be," she hissed, wiping the blood of her palm on her clothes. "He's an Aragon. If he can't handle the light, he'll be consumed by the dark. And right now? He looks like he's inviting the darkness to dinner."
The Commander sighed, a golden hum beginning to resonate from his chest. "Then let's see if you're strong enough to pull him back when the time comes. If you can't even get past an old man like me while you're angry, you'll never stand a chance against the 'darkness' he's playing with."
He raised his sword, and suddenly, the atmosphere of the training ground changed. The air grew heavy, smelling of ozone and sun-baked earth.
"No more games, Princess."
The Commander slammed his free hand into the air. Golden mana solidified instantly, forming three massive, floating shields that circled him like orbital moons. At the same time, his blade began to glow with a blinding brilliance, extending into a five-meter-long pillar of solid light.
Elena didn't hesitate. She threw herself forward with the speed that her body seemed a blur of crimson.
Clang! Clash! Boom!
Her blade was striking the golden shields a dozen times a second, searching for a gap. But the Commander was a master of the defence. With a flick of his fingers, one of the floating shields accelerated, slamming into Elena's side.
She grunted, spinning in mid-air to absorb the blow, and used the momentum to kick off the golden construct.
She thrust her sword into the air, and the blood still dripping from her palm didn't fall. It ignited. The burning blood then moved up to her sword, covering it completely.
She launched herself toward the Commander, a spear of blood and flame aimed directly at his heart.
The Commander grinned. He swept his light-pillar sword in a vertical arc, shouting, "Sunfall!"
The two powers collided in the center of the arena. A massive dome of gold and crimson energy expanded, blinding anyone who dared to look. The stone floor beneath them began to liquefy, turning into molten slag from the sheer intensity of the heat.
Elena was pushed back, her boots melting into the stone as she tried to hold her ground against the overwhelming weight of the Commander's golden mana.
"Is that all?" the Commander roared over the sound of the crackling energy. "If you want to save your brother—or kill him—you'll need more than just anger! You need Will!"
From the shadows of the arched doorway, I watched the spectacle. The heat was immense, even from this distance. My eyes were wide and my jaw was dropped, the hot air rushing into my lungs.
"What is all this?"
I just wanted to talk it out with Elena and was going to test my theory if possible.
But this...? This fight.
"Is this what I am up against?"